


Three Things

by Maxine_Gold



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood Drinking, First Time, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 03:57:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2798678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maxine_Gold/pseuds/Maxine_Gold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benny drinks Dean's blood three times in Purgatory, the third time gets...interesting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Things

**Author's Note:**

> I set out to write the most accurate, canon portrayal of Dean I could, while still getting him to have sex with Benny. I think I did OK, but I'll let you be the judge. There is somewhat dubious consent here, but it's pretty mild, and quickly turns into 'hell yes' consent. I was influenced by "Heart Blood" by StripySock which is an excellent story, and if you haven't read it, I definitely recommend you do so.

Benny learned three things about Dean during their time in Purgatory:

First, when it came to killing monsters, Dean was downright terrifying; a storm of weapons and deadly force that was best left to do its work without interference.

Second, it took a lot to gain his trust, but once you had it, he was loyal to the end.

And third, he hated giving up control.

Actually, that was only one thing in the rather large category of things Dean hated; a category which also included monsters, Purgatory, having to work with a monster to escape Purgatory…

But more even than those, Dean hated himself. Benny could see it in the hollowness behind his eyes, in the way he threw himself into battle with little care for his own well-being. Having spent the last few years of his un-life trying to control the monster he had become, Benny knew a thing or two about self-hatred.

Still, situations that made Dean feel out of control remained at the top of that list.

Adding all this up meant that Benny knew never to ask for the thing he wanted, needed, most. Asking Dean Winchester to surrender some of his blood to Benny would be akin to suicide.

But it was hard. Before Dean came to Purgatory Benny hadn’t really thought much about feeding. There were no humans in Purgatory, and therefore, there was no real thirst. It had never left him completely, of course, but before Dean it had been almost like the itch on a phantom limb. The second Dean landed in Purgatory, however, the thirst had roared to life, demanding that Benny quench it. It was how Benny first learned that a human had arrived. And he wasn’t the only one that had felt it.

It made Dean a target, a beacon in a sea of darkness, drawing in the monsters. Benny tried to slake his thirst by feeding off his own kind as he made his way toward Dean, but it was like drinking salt water; made him more thirsty rather than less.

Being with Dean, hearing the rush of his blood, the sound of his heart pumping that precious substance, was more difficult than Benny had counted on. But he managed to keep himself in check. Dean was his way out, and anyway, Benny guessed he’d be dead before he even got close enough.

Those first few days (it was hard to tell exactly how long because there was never any night in Purgatory, just the same gray mist hour after hour, day after day, week after week…) Dean kept one eye on the monsters in front of him and one eye on the monster beside him. He never stopped to rest, just kept moving forward, looking for the stupid angel. After what felt like 3 or 4 days of this, he was starting to look more than a little rough.

“Hey, brother,” Benny said, no longer able to keep quiet. Dean flinched at the nickname.

“You’re not my brother,” he said through gritted teeth. Benny hesitated, having already started off on the wrong foot.

“Fine. But at the very least we’re partners, and you’re starting to look like a cornered raccoon.”

That stopped Dean long enough to give Benny a puzzled look.

“Raccoons are nasty creatures, what get awful fierce when you corner ‘em. They get these crazy eyes, and broth-” Benny stopped himself, “Dean, you’ve got a bit of that crazy look about you now. When was the last time you slept?” Dean glared at him, but Benny held his ground.

“If you need a break, Benny, just say so,” Dean said, a smile twitching at his lips. But Benny could see the exhaustion clearly now, as though his acknowledgement of it had made it more real.

“You look ready to drop, and I don’t need to sleep. I’ll keep a lookout while you get some shut eye,” Benny was already moving to a shaded spot where they would be less conspicuous.

“I’m fine. Let’s just keep going,” Dean called. Benny settled down at the base of a large tree where he would not be easily seen from the path they had been following, but could still keep an eye out.

“You can keep going if you want, but I’m goin’ to rest a minute,” he said casually.

Dean looked at the path, then back at Benny, seeming at war with himself. Finally, he walked over looking pissed but resigned.

“Fine,” he said, dropping down next to a fallen tree a little ways away from Benny. He lay down on his side so he could keep Benny in sight, and his hand remained clutched around his weapon. “So help you God, if you try anything…” he said as he settled in.

“Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing, brother, I won’t let the monsters get you,” Benny assured him with a smile. Dean scowled at him.

“You’re not my brother,” he muttered as he closed his eyes.

 

After that, Benny made sure that Dean slept a few hours every day or so. And every time Dean awoke to find Benny keeping watch as promised, he trusted him a little bit more.

A camaraderie developed between them. Benny told Dean about his life before he had been a vampire, growing up in Louisiana. And slowly, haltingly, Dean began to tell Benny about his life as a hunter. He told Benny about his father and about Sam and Cas. Even about Lisa and Ben.

Handling the thirst was easier in those quieter moments. The hardest times were just after a fight, when Dean’s adrenaline would still be sending his blood whooshing through his veins, his heart like a jackhammer in Benny’s ears… but he still held on.

Then, while fighting a pack of werewolves, Benny miscalculated and just about got his guts ripped out. It was three deep gashes on his right side, and he lost a lot of blood. Dean surprised him by cleaning and dressing the wound himself, and then insisting they rest until Benny was better.

But Benny didn’t get better.

Without blood, Benny was dying, and he knew it.

He managed to hide it from Dean for a while. After about a day’s rest, he lurched to his feet and told Dean they could keep going. Dean could see that he was still pale and unsteady, but took Benny at his word, assuming that the worst was over. It wasn’t until they got in another fight (this time with two vamps) that he saw how bad off Benny really was.

“What the hell, man!” Dean shouted after he finished the second vamp which should have been Benny’s.

Benny gasped for breath and clutched his side, leaning against a tree for balance. Before he could answer, Dean was yanking his hand away and pulling up his shirt.

“Jesus, Benny,” he whispered when he got a look at the near black blood that was seeping out of his friend. “Why the hell didn’t you say anything?” he demanded. Benny shook his head.

“Wouldn’t have made much diff’rence, brother. Figured I’d go as far as I could and hope your angel buddy might be able to patch me up. Assuming he was willing, that is.” Benny was having a hard time looking at Dean who was so close he could have ripped into his neck with little more than a pull of his jacket.

“Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, pal, but you look like you’re dying,” Dean said, the concern in his eyes belying the flippancy of his tone. Benny chuckled but it turned into a wet cough and Dean’s hand on his shoulder was the only thing keeping him upright now.

“Yeah, I reckon I am,” he said. He chanced a look at Dean and saw the wheels clicking into place. Benny had known Dean long enough to know that the “dumb” act was just that: an act. Dean may not be book smart the way he’d told Benny Sam was, but he was smart where it counted: battle tactics, practicality, survival. And right now, Benny could see Dean putting together all the clues, all the times he’d caught Benny looking at him just a little too long before averting his gaze like a junkie turning away from their drug of choice.

“You need blood,” he said quietly. It wasn’t a question, so Benny didn’t answer, just stared at the ground, certain that this was it; this was when Dean was going to kill him.

He saw Dean raise his weapon and Benny closed his eyes like a coward… but then he smelled blood, fresh blood, and his eyes flew open. Dean had cut a line on his own arm and was watching Benny with that wary-but-resigned look he’d had the first time he agreed to sleep while Benny kept watch.

“What are you…” Benny couldn’t finish the sentence, his eyes fixed on the blood welling in the cut on Dean’s arm. He licked his lips and could feel his second set of teeth push through his gums involuntarily. Still, he held himself in check, afraid that if he moved too quickly, startled Dean in any way, he would get decapitated for his trouble.

“Just fucking drink already, before I change my mind,” Dean said roughly, and Benny could hear the undercurrent of fear and hatred in his voice.

Benny leaned slowly, so slowly, toward the proffered arm. He glanced one last time at Dean, saw the battle going on there between the need to save his friend and the desire to run or fight. Then he lowered his mouth to lap at the blood.

The first taste shot through him like an electric current, and it was all he could do not to rip into Dean and drink and drink until there was nothing left. He controlled himself, barely, but it was still rougher than he intended. He bit into Dean’s arm harder than he had meant to, and heard Dean’s sharp intake of breath.

He locked onto that arm like it was a lifeline, gulping down great swallows of blood, feeling it rush through him, warming him down to his toes. He immediately got hard, a side effect he had almost forgotten it had been so long since he last drank straight from the vein. He was lost in the blood, drowning in it, but there was something else…something trying to get his attention.

Benny’s eyes snapped open, not sure when he’d closed them, and realized that Dean was trying to push him off, repeating his name over and over again. He pulled back and everything came into focus once more. They were on the ground now, Dean half under Benny, his arm still immobilized by the crushing grip of Benny’s hands. Dean looked pissed and uncomfortable, and Benny realized his hard-on was pressing into Dean’s thigh. He rolled off immediately, scooting out of reach in case Dean decided to kill him after all.

“Dammit, Benny,” Dean snapped, cradling his arm to his chest, “you nearly took my arm off!”

“Sorry,” Benny panted, retracting his teeth and trying to reorient himself.  “Sorry, brother. It’s been awhile.”

Dean moved away to lean against a tree, putting more distance between them, still holding his arm and glaring daggers at Benny. They sat that way, staring at each other, both breathing heavily- though Benny suspected for very different reasons - for several minutes. Finally, Dean broke Benny’s gaze long enough to look at the wound on his arm. He must not have liked what he saw because his eyes darkened and when he looked back up they were full to bursting with hatred. Still he said nothing, just started to tear off pieces of his shirt to uses as bandages, and wrapped them awkwardly around his arm.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I usually have better control than that. It was just…it was being hurt and being so long since I…” Benny trailed off, feeling the guilt rising in him. Dean had offered to save his life and he had almost killed him. He had definitely taken too much, he could see that in the pallor of Dean’s face and the small but noticeable tremor in his hands as he tied the bandage around his arm.

“Here, let me help-“ Benny started to get up.

“DON’T!” Dean shouted, picking up his weapon and holding it out in front of him. Benny froze where he was, holding up his hands. “Just, stay there,” Dean continued in a calmer voice, putting his weapon down again and continuing to bind his arm.

Dean slept for a long time after that, propped up against the tree, hand clutched around his weapon. Benny, as always, kept watch.

He heard the approaching monster before he saw it, and stood silently, creeping toward whatever it was. He managed to circle around behind it (it was a ghoul, not too smart) and kill it almost soundlessly.

Dean was awake when he returned.

“What was it?” he asked in that no-nonsense tone.

“Ghoul, nothing I couldn’t handle,” Benny replied, sinking down into the exact spot he’d been sitting for hours.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Dean asked, rubbing a hand over his face.

“If I thought I couldn’t handle it, I would have. But I figured you needed rest more than a fight.” Dean nodded.

“You all right?” Benny asked.

“Peachy. You?” Benny lifted his shirt so Dean could see that he was completely healed; there wasn’t even a scar.

“Good,” Dean said shortly, and started to stand.

“Hold up, maybe you shouldn’t…” Benny was up and moving forward before he could think about it, and Dean put the weapon between them again, warning Benny to keep his distance.

“Dean…” Benny trailed off.

“I’m fine, Benny. Let’s just keep going.” That hard, untrusting look was back in Dean’s eyes, not that Benny could blame him.

 

For the next few days Benny let Dean call the shots about everything, practically jumping to obey anything and everything Dean asked of him. He was positive that whatever good will or friendship had been blossoming between them was now gone for good, but at least Dean hadn’t dismissed him entirely. Benny decided just to be grateful and keep his mouth shut.

But Dean surprised him again when out of the blue he started telling Benny about the time he and Sam took on what they thought was a Trickster.

And just like that, they were buddies again.

Dean rarely received any serious injuries (he was just too fast), but he did get a nasty slice down the back by something Benny didn’t know the name for, in a surprise attack. Typically Dean cleaned and bandaged any scrapes or cuts by himself, but this was deeper than anything he’d gotten before, and there was no way he could reach it.

Benny started to offer, but stopped when he saw the set of Dean’s jaw. He then watched in silence as Dean painfully stripped off his jacket and shirt, and then attempted to fold himself in knots trying to get at the cut.

“ALL RIGHT!” he shouted after a few minutes, as though Benny had said something. He looked Benny in the eye, but didn’t say anything more. Benny, assuming that was the best he was going to get as far as Dean Winchester asking for help, approached cautiously and knelt behind him.

It was deeper than he’d realized or he might have forced help on Dean before this, and it was still bleeding freely. He licked his lips involuntarily and Dean flinched.

“Looks pretty bad, brother,” Benny said, still keeping his hands to himself. The cut started high on the left side of his neck and curved down almost to the middle of his back.

“Thanks, Dr. House, can you just fix it?” Benny had no idea who “Dr. House” was, but he was used to Dean’s pop culture references making no sense to him.

“It might get infected without anything to clean it,” Benny said slowly, licking his lips again. He told himself that was probably true, but part of him also knew it was just an excuse for what he was about to suggest. “If I were to clean it…properly, it would heal faster.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Dean asked in a tone which suggested he already suspected the answer. Benny shrugged and raised his eyebrows. “Fucking hell,” Dean grumbled. “Are you going to Hulk out on me again?” he asked holding Benny’s gaze.

“I swear on my mother’s virtue,” Benny said, holding up his right hand. Dean drew up his knees and wrapped his hands around them as though he were afraid of what they might do.

“All right, fine. Just do it already.”

Benny was true to his word and kept himself in control this time. He licked the wound clean, his hands gently holding Dean steady without restraining him. He started at the bottom, catching the blood that was spilling out, and slowly working his way up. Dean’s muscles were rigid as stone under him, unmoving. He only shuddered once when Benny licked the back of his neck.

With the wound clean and already starting to knit, Benny wrapped cloth around Dean’s torso as best he could where the cut was deepest.

Dean’s head was in his hands now, covering his face.

“There now,” Benny said brightly, moving away again. “You should probably rest, give yerself a chance to heal.” Dean looked up at him as he settled in to keep watch.

“You look like the goddamn cat that ate the canary,” Dean spit out with one of his patented glares. Benny shrugged, unable to keep the grin off his face. He couldn’t help it, he felt great. Dean’s blood was beer and chocolate and juicy steak all rolled into one.

 

The third and final time Benny would ever drink Dean’s blood came just days before they found the angel.

They came around a bend and ran smack into two Leviathan. Looking back on it, Benny thought they shouldn’t have been surprised to find Leviathan close on Castiel’s trail.

Dean took one look and told Benny to run. Dean rarely ran unless it was to gain the higher ground or lure a monster into a trap, so Benny didn’t hesitate.

The Leviathan caught up with him and took a sizable chunk out of his left shoulder before he could take it down. Benny wondered if he hadn’t subconsciously let the Leviathan get a good bite in just so he would have an excuse to drink more of Dean’s blood, but Dean ended up with several minor lacerations on his arms and torso and one deep one across his right thigh so he figured it was probably just that Leviathans were tough monsters. Probably.

“Sonuvabitch,” Dean cursed when he saw the mess of blood and flesh that used to be Benny’s shoulder. And without any further discussion, he stripped out of his jacket and shirt and held out one freely bleeding arm toward Benny.

It was one of the shallower cuts, but Benny lapped up the blood gratefully. Dean stood still as a statue as Benny cleaned each wound in turn, his own slowly mending.

“Is that enough?” Dean asked when he had finished, and Benny could hear the trepidation in his voice.

“You’re leg is bleeding pretty bad, brother,” Benny said, nodding his head at the pool of blood forming on the ground. Dean looked up at the sky like he was asking for patience, his jaw clenched so tight Benny thought it might lock that way.

“I’m not taking my pants off,” he said at last. Benny couldn’t stop the smile that spread over his face.

“Lucky for you that Leviathan cut a nice hole in your pants right where he also happened to slice into your pretty flesh.”

Dean did not look amused.

“It’d be best if you at least sat down, you’re losing a lot of blood,” Benny suggested helpfully. He was already feeling the high of Dean’s blood, and it was making him giddy.

Dean sat stiffly, and Benny knelt beside him, carefully ripping his jeans a little further for better access before going to work.

He was hard again and breathing heavily as he lost himself in the blood, wondering how many more times he could get away with this before Dean decided he wasn’t worth the trouble and just killed him. But it didn’t matter, he was helplessly, hopelessly addicted now, and it wasn’t just the blood. Something about Dean submitting to him, knowing how much he hated not being in control, made Benny feel powerful.

Reluctantly, he drew back from the licked-clean wound and rocked back on his heels. Dean was leaning back, his arms slightly behind him to support his weight, head thrown back, eyes closed. Everything about him from way he was holding himself to the expression on his face screamed self-loathing. Benny was shaken by the force of that loathing, wondering where it was coming from. Was this really just about letting Benny drink his blood? He hadn’t even let Benny bite him since that first time.

Then he saw it. Even through his jeans, Benny could see that Dean was hard. His own cock jumped at the sight, his breath catching in his throat. He’d never even considered that part of Dean’s reluctance was that he actually _liked_ letting Benny drink his blood.

Benny wanted to say something, to tell Dean that having a vampire suck your blood did that to some people, that it didn’t mean anything. He could guess from the way Dean talked about his ex-marine father that any dalliances of the homosexual variety would not have been tolerated. Benny’s own sexuality had always been decidedly straight until he’d become a vampire; all human lines tended to blur a bit after that. Benny’s Father had sex with all His children as a way of keeping them close to Him, but also as a way to establish dominance. But Benny really didn’t think Dean was gay, not the way he talked about Lisa with such genuine feeling. Or even that angel (what was her name? Anna?) he’d had a fling with. Still, maybe, just maybe, Dean was bi…

Benny didn’t get a chance to follow that train of thought any further as he was knocked onto his back.

“You want my blood, you sonuvabitch?” Dean was on top of him, pinning him down, and Benny was too surprised to even struggle much. Dean hit him twice, two quick hard punches to the face. Then Benny did struggle, sure that he had pushed Dean too far, and was now going to pay for it. Dean hit him in the side this time, punching up under the ribs so perfectly Benny thought he might have broken one or two. Then he squeezed Benny’s healing shoulder and Benny let out a roar.

He managed to get in a punch to Dean’s face, but he was still pinned to the ground, and then Dean was pulling down his pants and Benny froze again, his semi-hard cock suddenly exposed. Dean had two of his own fingers in his mouth, pulled them out and shoved them into Benny without warning. Benny inhaled so quickly he choked, and found himself unable to make a sound for what felt like minutes but was probably only seconds.

Dean’s fingers were moving in him, and they burned as they stretched him.

 _Well_ , Benny thought, _that settles the question of whether Dean Winchester has ever been with a guy before._ Dean’s fingers began to slide more easily and Benny moaned when he added a third. He wasn’t struggling now, and his cock was achingly hard.

“You can’t hurt me, brother, not really. Your blood will just keep healing me,” Benny grunted, now pushing back to meet Dean’s fingers. With his free hand Dean slapped him hard.

“Shut up,” he growled. Benny tried to read the expression there, but Dean’s face was closed, a hollow mask firmly in place. Dean pulled his fingers out and lifted himself off far enough to roll Benny onto his front, forcing him onto hands and knees. Benny heard Dean opening his fly and felt a shudder go through him.

And then Dean was pressing into him, and it hurt. He could feel himself tearing as Dean pushed forward, driving relentlessly. Benny almost wished he hadn’t said anything, hadn’t given Dean the OK to hurt him, but the pain was delicious in its own way.

At last Dean was in him to the hilt, and everything throbbed and burned and felt so full and so…incredible. Benny had learned to enjoy his Father’s little ‘tests of obedience’, but they had been nothing compared to this.

Dean paused to give Benny time to adjust, and this more than anything else, more even than the preparation Dean had given him, told Benny that Dean wasn’t really trying to hurt him. He wondered briefly if Dean had ever bottomed, but dismissed the thought immediately.

Of course he hadn’t, that would mean giving up control.

He started to move, slowly at first, then in long smooth strokes that lit Benny up inside and made his stomach do a somersault. He felt Dean lean down until his lips were next to Benny’s ear.

“You want my blood, monster?” he whispered, and Benny’s breath hitched in his chest.

“Well, do you?”

“Yes,” Benny hissed.

“Say ‘please’ you fucking blood-sucker.”

“Please,” Benny moaned. Dean reached around until his left wrist was hovering before Benny’s mouth. Benny’s fangs shot out and sank into him. Dean gasped, losing his rhythm, hips stalling momentarily as the pain overwhelmed everything. Then he started to move again, harder and faster, pounding into Benny with such violence it was all he could do to stay upright.

The blood flooding his mouth and Dean fucking into him so hard and deep, hitting his prostate over and over was all Benny could take. He let go of Dean’s wrist, afraid he would bite through it, and came hard, shooting all over the ground beneath him.

Dean continued his frantic pace, slamming into Benny’s now limp form, fucking him into the ground. And then he pushed in hard one last time, so deep Benny thought he could feel him in his throat, and came with a grunt, filling him with warm slick come. A few final strokes and he finally pulled out and collapsed onto his back. Benny rolled onto his side, trying to catch his breath, wondering what would happen if they were attacked in that moment. Benny’s legs felt like jelly, and he doubted he could stand just then, let alone fight.

He looked over at Dean and saw that he was already tucking himself away, putting himself back together, efficient as a soldier. He watched Dean bandage his wrist just the same as he had treated any other minor wound. Benny hoped it was minor, he’d tried to restrain himself, but, well…he hadn’t exactly been thinking clearly.

Reluctantly, Benny pulled his pants on, feeling sore in all the best ways, and brushing absently at the dried leaves that seemed everywhere suddenly. He stretched his previously injured shoulder gingerly, but found that it was completely healed.

“You good?” Dean asked, watching him. Benny could see that Dean was struggling. He caught a glimpse of guilt in his eyes, and Benny wished he could tell Dean that it was all right and have him really hear it. But he wouldn’t.

“Right as rain, brother,” Benny said instead with a grin. Dean offered him a hand up.

“Good,” he said once Benny was on his feet. They looked at each other for a long time, and some silent understanding passed between them. Benny knew Dean would never speak of this and that it would never happen again. Benny hoped that Dean could see that he understood (and hoped just as hard that Dean couldn’t see how sad it made him, knowing this was a one-time-only deal).

Dean broke the silence first: “Let’s get moving then, we’re losing daylight,” he said, clapping Benny hard on the shoulder. Benny was going to argue that seeing as there was no day, they couldn’t technically ‘lose daylight’, but then he caught Dean’s smile.

Dean: brooding, damaged, scary-as-shit-monster-hunter-Dean, was actually smiling, and it was relaxed and genuine and even reached his eyes. Benny knew then that they had overcome some obstacle. Dean didn’t look at him as a monster anymore. He had crossed fully into that selective and all important category of family. It was the highest compliment Dean could ever have given him.

“Lead the way, brother.”

**Author's Note:**

> I would love constructive feedback. I did not have this beta read, choosing instead to write several drafts and attempt to edit myself. I hope there aren't any egregious errors. Thank you for reading, and thank you to this wonderful fandom, you have always been so supportive.


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